Even Cupid Vacillates
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Booth tries to come up with a unique way to celebrate Valentine's Day with Brennan. This story assumes that Max is in good health, Little Hank isn't yet a twinkle in anyone's eyes, and Christine is a kindergartener.
1. Chapter 1

Even Cupid Vacillates

 **A/N: This is my Valentine's Day Bonesology Challenge story for ecv. Her stated request was "** **My wishes: ecv** **~ something romantic with Booth and Brennan - I really have no other requirements." As you might note, I attempted a bit of cleverness with the title for her. Herein, Booth tries to come up with a creative way to observe Valentine's Day with his Bones; the holiday they once both dismissed as meaningless empty nonsense foisted on sappy consumers for commercial gain by card, candy, and flower vendors. I have to give credit to FaithinBones for her brilliantly helpful prompt suggestion of the Appalachian Trail setting; it jarred loose my inspiration, which was temporarily stuck in 'Idle' after the darker tone of my Aldo story.**

A few weeks before Valentine's Day, Booth found himself in a conundrum.

Some years back, in the emotional aftermath of his rejected proposal of marriage to Hannah, he had loudly proclaimed his disdain for Valentine's Day celebrations. He, Seeley Booth, had sworn off observing a day for lovers.

He'd been a hopeless romantic ever since presenting the first crookedly-cut, wobbly-printed red construction paper heart to his mother as a first grader. Adorned with lacy white filigree from a paper doily, it had proclaimed his adoration for the first important lady in his life. His teacher Miss Martin had scheduled an entire week of art periods for her class to create family Valentines.

Booth had also made Valentine cards for his dad, Pop and Grams, and his favorite Aunts, Ruth and Franny. His little heart had thrilled at the chance to make his mom happy, and her delighted smile when he shyly handed the over-pasted homemade envelop to her. His father had harrumphed over the heartfelt art project. A generation later, Booth found himself cherishing the same splotchy treasures from Parker.

Several weeks after the break-up, Booth remembered fondly, there he was in the basement firing range, firing gangster tommy guns borrowed from the Jeffersonian by his incredibly thoughtful and inventive partner, blasting his romantic frustrations into oblivion along with those demolished paper targets, as he and Brennan raked the weapons back and forth like Bugs Moran.

Back to his current problem; how creatively to celebrate 'the artificial holiday perpetuated to benefit florists, candy makers, and greeting card companies' his wife still pretended to disdain? He chewed on this matter as he drove Christine and Kennedy to school Monday morning, half-listening to the backseat chatter between his daughter and her best buddy. The little girl's colonel father was on active duty in the Gulf, and she'd spent the weekend at the Booth home to give her mom a breather from solo parenting.

Continuing the internal debate he'd been having with himself since he'd climbed in the shower that morning, Booth considered and rejected ideas for expressing his love to Brennan. Dinner out and dancing at their favorite jazz club? Astonishment at the skillful scary speed of whizzing knives watching sushi prepared at the new Japanese restaurant Aubrey had recommended? A night at the Kimpton Paloma Hotel or Lafayette Square Sofitel?

"When my daddy gets home, he's gonna take me and Mommy camping in Shanna-doa Park!" Kennedy enthused. "They have a house where my grandpa tooked Daddy. They fished when he was little. I don't like it, though, the fishies are slimy, and their eyes scare me. I like picking up red leaves with Grammy. There's lotsa trees and neat rocks you can climb on."

"Sometimes we go camping too, at Daddy's cabin," Christine replied. "It's way out, we hafta drive and drive on bumpy roads, and the car gets all dusty. You get outta the car, and open a gate, drive a little, then you gotta get out and jump over some water to get to the tent. I don't think there's any fishies living in that creek. Parker and Daddy put up the tent, and Mommy puts a pot on some rocks to cook. The fire under the rocks hots up the pot."

Booth glanced in the rearview mirror and chuckled to himself. They had only camped with Christine once, last summer when Parker was home from England, but she talked about it all the time. He and Brennan had decided to keep the land Jacob Broadsky had fraudulently purchased in Booth's name; and they planned to build a permanent cabin there someday.

The girls' conversation had given him an idea. The weather was unseasonably mild this year and it had been a while since the couple had visited his favorite mountain lookout. The first time he'd returned from combat, troubled by his sniper assignments, Booth had sought a quiet place of solitude to clear his head. Aldo Clemens had suggested Washington Monument State Park, 47 minutes outside of Washington DC.

Booth had visited the first monument to George Washington, wandered the now-silent trails of Crampton, Fox, and Turner Gaps where Union troops had first stopped the Army of Northern Virginia in the these rugged mountain areas a few days before Antietam, and found some solace in the continuity of men defending freedom a century before him. In the midst of his hike, he'd found an overlook that won his heart. Its view spanned the land below and offered a flat place to sit.

Pondering his military service and wondering about his future, Booth had watched the sun slip behind the hills. He camped that night and watched again as the sunrise painted a rolling valley beneath his rocky outcrop perch. Since then, he'd returned many times to absorb its peace, and wanted to share it with Brennan.

"Daddy, can we go to the zoo next week and take Kennedy?" Christine asked, interrupting his reverie.

"We'll see what her mom has to say about that, Monkey. We're almost at school. Enjoyed having you around this weekend, Miss Kennedy," Booth responded.

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Booth," the little brunette said politely. The two girls unhooked their seat belts, hopped out of the car and grabbed their Frozen backpacks. Christine had Elsa; Kennedy had Anna. Joining hands, they waved at Booth and disappeared inside the James Monroe Early Childhood annex.

Having fulfilled his carpool duties, Booth turned the SUV toward the Hoover, and began formulating a to do list in his head. Having visited Washington Monument State Park often enough to call its ranger staff friends, he was pretty sure he could count on reserving a cabin the weekend nearest Valentine's Day. Since Max was always up for encouraging romance between his children and their spouses, Booth extracted his cell phone from his pocket at the next stoplight and punched the speed dial.

"Max, I wonder if you're free to watch Christine sometime in the next few weeks? I'm planning a hiking trip to Boonesboro for Bones' Valentine surprise. I need to call the ranger station and reserve a cabin if you can entertain your granddaughter."

"Sure thing, Booth, just let me know when," came the reply. "Tempe has loved hiking ever since her legs were too short to keep up and I had to piggyback her!"

B&B B&B B&B B&B

After spending Valentine's Day at home enjoying Grams' Bolognese sauce over linguini pasta, Caesar salad, a good red wine and sinfully rich chocolate cake from Mama's, Booth and Brennan left work at noon on Friday and headed out of town. He had told her to pack for camping, but not their specific destination. The midday traffic on US 270 was light, and they arrived at the Main Cup Restaurant in Middletown by 1:30. Booth ordered a loaded cheeseburger and Brennan requested a vegetable quesadilla.

"Booth, where are you taking me?" Brennan inquired for the tenth time.

"Patience, grasshopper. All will be revealed shortly," he teased her.

They left the restaurant and drove through the picturesque little town along the first federally funded highway authorized by Congress in 1806, the Maryland National Road. Booth's SUV followed where the citizens of Boonesboro had carried the Stars and Stripes up South Mountain on July 4, 1827 and built a bullet-shaped rock tower to 15 feet, returning that September to finish their 34-ft monument honoring George Washington.

"You've brought me to the Appalachian Trail," Brennan said softly. "Dad always promised we'd go hiking here when I grew tall enough, but we moved around enough that it never happened."

"Well now you can. And your dad keeping Christine is making it possible, Bones."

He pulled into the parking lot of Washington Monument State Park, unloaded their packs, and locked the truck. They strolled together to the ranger station and Booth greeted the officer behind the counter.

"Hey, Harvey, this is my wife Temperance Brennan. Can I pick up the tent I reserved?"

"Seeley, good to see you. _My_ wife loves your books, Dr. Brennan! Your tent is waiting up at the trail shelter near Sunrise Point. Here's a key to the storage locker there. Just be sure to return it when you hike back down. We pick up the tents from each campsite on Mondays and dry them out if need be."

They thanked the ranger, and Booth shook his hand. The couple were experts at packing light and set a brisk pace as they set out. The next hour was spent in spirited conversation and jockeying for position. After years of trekking to dig sites, Brennan moved at a rapid pace. Despite Booth taking longer strides due to his height, she kept hitting his heels like Parker steering a shopping cart when he was younger.

"Geez, Bones, you're gonna trip me up! Take it easy and stop runnin' up behind me! You gotta pace yourself when you're hiking!"

"Booth, you are slowing me down, impeding our progress. I want to observe the fauna and wildlife at the summit. Hodgins told me there are numerous edible fungi and plants indigenous to this region. He asked that I bring him back sassafras, wintergreen, chicory, and wood sorrel for tea. I've brought a carryall to collect some. I plan to pick raspberries, blackberries, huckleberries, and mulberries for our desert; scallions, ramps, dandelion and day lily leaves for a salad; thistle to boil for our vegetable, wild grapes for a snack."

"He said there are several edible fungi around here; chantrelle, chicken of the woods, oyster mushrooms, rock tripe…,"

" _Rock tripe?"_ Booth asked as he nearly gagged at the plant's name. "Bones, I learned to recognize edible native plants for survival in several region by the military, but I'm _never_ eating rock tripe!"

Brennan stopped in the middle of the trail and looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"Booth, I'd never gather fungi since I am not an expert. Doing so and consuming them could poison a person. And I certainly don't plan on feeding you toxic plants on our romantic getaway! What kind of a Valentine's celebration would that be?"

She pulled a compass from her pocket and squinted up at the sun. "I wonder if we could make better time reaching the summit if we took that side trail," she mused.

"Bones, I've hiked this mountain dozens of times. Trust me, I know the fastest way to the top. That's where my thinking spot is. We don't need to take any shortcuts. You could twist an ankle very easily on some of the rocks and vines around here. The soldiers in 1862 faced that problem. Men unfamiliar with the region suffered some serious injuries that impeded their march!"

His wife gave him a look of approval. "You certainly know your history, Booth. Hodgins apprised me of that very fact Friday morning."

B&B B&B B&B B&B

They hiked on in companionable silence for another twenty minutes, with Brennan stopping to pick the berries, leaves, and plants she desired. As the afternoon wore on, the wind picked up, and when they paused for a water break, Booth reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Then he kissed her.

"Looks like a storm is moving in. We better make tracks to reach what I want to show you!"

After another twenty minutes, the trees thinned out and the trail opened onto a flat promontory. Booth put his arm around her shoulders and led Brennan closer to the edge. She gazed out across the vista below them.

"Booth, this is a beautiful spot."

"I used to come here on weekends when I didn't have Parker, and was down. It's close enough to DC that I could make it before sunset in the spring and summer. Spent a fair amount of time sitting here, looking, thinking, stewing, until I found some quiet within me," he said softly.

"Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Let's go back to that trail shelter we passed, get the tent and set it up. You can wash your plants under the tap and we can eat the sandwiches and soup I brought."

A half hour later, Booth had expertly erected the spacious tent stamped 'Washington State Park #104', as Brennan washed and tore and peeled. He unpacked a thermos of iced tea, chips, sandwiches, and two canisters of soup bearing the logo 'Mama's'.

"Oh, you brought _her_ soup? Please tell me its vegetable medley!" Brennan exclaimed.

"One and the same! I also ordered a veggie pita wrap for you. I've got minestrone and turkey on wheat."

"How do you like my 'local fare'?" Brennan inquired with a smile.

"Really tasty, Bones! I'm surprised, the salad is good, even without dressing, and these various berries are delicious. Hodgins is a walking encyclopedia of handy botanical knowledge, isn't he?"

"Yes, Booth, he has taught me many helpful things since I came to the Jeffersonian."

Once the food was packed up, and their sleeping bags were unrolled inside the tent, the couple returned to Booth's thinking spot, spread a blanket, and sat together to watch the sunset. Brennan leaned back against her husband's broad chest and he closed his arms around her tenderly. She felt safe, secure, and very much loved.

The brilliant reds and oranges splashed across the sky deepened slightly and began to slide down toward the horizon. The watching pair felt themselves pelted with several fat raindrops. Brennan extended her hand, palm up, and laughed aloud. Booth thought it the most melodious sound, his favorite ever. He got to his feet, reached for her hand, and picked up the blanket. The shower intensified, as they dashed back to the tent.

Once she was inside, he smoothed out the tarp spread at the entrance and zipped up the fly. She removed an LED lantern from her pack and turned its knob, illuminating the tent. Since its fabric was a very light gray, plenty of light pervaded the interior. Leaves from the trees above them whipped about.

Grabbing a pillow, Booth laid out on his back and pulled her down beside him. She pivoted her body to rest her head on his flat stomach as he played with her hair. Sitting up, he leaned over and kissed her deeply. She grasped the front of his flannel shirt, deftly undid the buttons, and pulled it off his broad shoulders. He pulled her sweatshirt over her head and kissed her again. Her agile hands slid along his muscular chest, caressing and kneading.

Shoulders bumped. Breathing became erratic. She felt each familiar ridge and bump as his strong calloused fingers moved down her arms and slipped beneath the hem of her t-shirt. She tugged it up and off in one fluid motion, then repeated the movement with his. The heat coming off their bodies offset the dropping temperature outside the tent. Before long, they were each unzipping jeans and raising hips to facilitate sliding the dark blue garments off entirely. A terrific clap of thunder echoed overhead, and the downpour began. The occupants of tent 104 on Sunset Ridge didn't hear a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 More Cupid

As the storm subsided into a slow and steady rain, so did the couple's passionate activities within the tent. Booth and Brennan had broken the rules of physics she held so dear, and these weren't the ones she invoked while Christine was learning to ride her bike. Booth's old friend Aldo had been right. What they shared was why humans draw breath. Their thoughts and spirits were so in sync, they could finish one another's sentences, converse without words, and feel when one arrived or left a room without turning around.

They dozed snugly entwined, his strong arms enfolding, her legs caressing. Their connection encompassed all aspects of 'them.' After a couple of hours, Booth awoke to find bright blue eyes observing him.

"How long have you been watching me sleep?" he asked.

"Never long enough," she replied. "I think the stars will be out soon. Did you pack the extra tarp? I put in a blanket to lie on and one to snuggle under. Can we watch the sky for a little while? The times Dad took us camping, we'd all four stretch out in a row and stare at the constellations overhead, trying to spot them first and making up stories. Mom's were always the best."

"That sounds very romantic, Dr. Brennan. My dad pointed those out from the grass in our backyard. The fescue that grows in Philly is very soft to rest in. Not at all like the coarser grass in Florida where Walter Sherman hangs out, from that last case we had."

"I don't know how he found my science fair medal, but if I believed in fate, I'd guess your positive thoughts supported his efforts, Booth."

"Well, I believe in fate, my dearest. Ever since my first American University lecture hall encounter with your brilliant mind and ethereal beauty, neither my heart nor my mind had a chance of escaping your spell, Bones. I've been hooked since then. Love at first sight isn't only in Chrissy's fairy tales."

"I can't imagine my life without you, Booth. You transformed my ideas, perceptions, and opinions completely. During all those years of foster un-care, I never dreamed I'd find such contented happiness and peace. We really are each other's other half. I love you very much."

"If we continue to wax poetic in this tent, we will miss the light show Mother Nature's putting on outside. I brought your favorite wine and Babybel cheese. Do we still have some of the grapes you picked today? They would make a nice evening snack, I think," Booth suggested.

"Sounds very suitable. The insects aren't active just yet, so we can safely take our pillows outside for a bit, I believe. I certainly don't want spiders and such in my hair like poor Cam had to contend with last month!"

The tarp spread, pillows in place, Booth stretched out on his back once again, and Brennan curled in close beside him, resting her head on his bicep. He produced a small set of binoculars out of his pack, and handed them to her.

"Show me where Delphinus is," he requested softly. She pointed upward with one hand.

"I don't need binoculars, Booth. It's always been right there. For years before we came across my mother's bones at the lab, I used to watch the dolphin in the sky and feel her doing likewise. I took comfort in that thought, even though it proved untrue later on," she signed.

Booth kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. "I did the same thing, only with the moon and Pops. He and Gram loved to sit on the back porch and stare at the moon. In the desert or jungle on missions, if the night was clear, I could always find the moon and sense them watching it as well. Obviously, the time zones didn't match, but it gave me a sense of connection with back home, and that was comforting," Booth told her.

The exertion of their hike brought fatigue and achy muscles. Despite the opinion of some that the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail was its easiest, it still involved steep climbs. The couple returned to their tent, crawled into the Frontcountry Bed sleeping bag on top of their Megamat Duo mat which Brennan had given Booth for Christmas. This was their first time to try it out. The bulk of this sleep system had required Booth to haul some extra weight, but his sigh of satisfaction was proof that the extra effort was oh-so worthwhile.

"This is the life, Bones. You really pampered me, buying these. If the Army could manage providing these to all their troops, our volunteer force would triple in size! General Carter never slept so well on maneuvers!"

"The wellbeing of your back is tantamount to me, Booth. Camping is not enjoyable without a decent night's sleep, especially for you. This really was a wonderful way to observe Valentine's Day. Thank you for my surprise," Brennan said, yawning widely mid-sentence.

"Good night, my beautiful Bones. Tomorrow we'll see what other adventures we can find to celebrate our love before we turn back into pumpkins." 

Brennan smiled sleepily into his shoulder. "Now that...I _do_ know what that means! Cinderella."

Booth leaned against her and yawned deeply. "That's my girl. Yeah, Bones, I know, you're not a girl...G'nite."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 A Leisurely Loverly Saturday

The next morning Booth awakened first and had a chance to indulge in his second favorite early morning pastime: watching his wife sleep, her face relaxed, little breaths of air disturbing an errant curl too near her nose, a tiny smile playing across her lips as she dreamed something sweet, and likely sexy, he thought to himself. His most favorite morning activity was, of course, making love to said beautiful wife.

But their hike had been strenuous yesterday, as his own shoulders and feet were reminding him; and he thought it best to let her sleep. It wasn't long, however, before she stirred and opened her eyes.

"You know I can feel you watching me, Booth. It nearly always wakes me up," she said as she raised up on one elbow to kiss him. "It is propitious that we retired earlier than usual. This is an interesting area; I'd like to do some shopping back in Middletown before we head back, and possibly drive around Boonesboro. It's a very historic little town, founded by some of Daniel Boone's cousins."

So they smooched and cuddled a bit, and indulged in each other's bodies; reveling in the fact that they didn't need to keep one ear peeled for the thump of little feet or the soft creak of their bedroom door as Christine turned the knob ever so carefully to peer in and see if her parents were awake. Their campsite was secluded enough that other campers and they were oblivious to one another's pre-dawn activities. The total isolation of their temporary home was indeed a luxury parents seldom enjoyed.

They unzipped the tent entrance flap and walked arm in arm to the nearby overlook to watch sunrise. By 7:30 they had dressed, munched some fruit, deflated, rolled, and compressed their very comfortable bedding, collapsed the tent, and stowed it all in Booth's pack. After Brennan repacked their clothing, she pulled the rolled socks from their hiking boots, inverted the footwear and thumped them soundly to check for insects playing hide and seek.

Booth flexed his feet, tugged on clean socks, and slid on his shoes before securing the laces around their grommets and tying them twice. "That camping sleep system you bought me for Christmas felt heavenly. I'm sure it cost a bundle, but it's worth every penny. You really pamper me, Bones."

"You deserve to be comfortable, Agent Booth," she smiled, wriggling into one shoe and then the other, steadying herself with one hand on his muscular shoulder; then rising on her tiptoes to hug him. In high heels she was nearly his height, but several inches shorter in flat shoes. They took one last look out across the fog-laden valley from Booth's thinking spot, shouldered their packs, walked into the next clearing, stashed the tent back into the rangers' storage locker, and hiked back down South Mountain by a slightly different route to view the sun-dappled spots and shadier glens as the morning sun burned off the fog.

"I can't believe we lucked out with such mild temperatures mid-February," Booth remarked.

"The weather played nice just for your romantic surprise getaway plans, huh?" Brennan asked. "You are aware that factors affecting our seasonal climate are completely inanimate, right?"

"Okay, Mrs. Scientist…of course I know that….Stop teasing me or you won't get any future mystery trips with me!" Booth retorted as they descended the last few meters of the rocky pathway into a wide open field. Farmers were setting out their wooden crates of produce and artisan wares arranged on ancient scuffed-up folding tables.

As they wandered through the aisles of fresh fruits and vegetables of the farmers' market, Booth leaned over and told her, "Being here with you is so much better than doing this alone, waiting for my chance to get your next burner phone from Harland or his brothers every Saturday that summer you were gone with Christine."  
Brennan gripped his hand tightly and nodded, words momentarily stuck behind the lump in her throat.  
"I agree. That was the longest three months of my life, Booth."

They selected a handcrafted bracelet of polished river stones for Angela, several packets each of heirloom flower and vegetable seeds for Hodgins, and a hand-sewn cloth rag doll for Christine. A woman and her daughter were selling fragrant yeasty-buttery cinnamon rolls and steaming coffee, which the pair bought and ate for breakfast as they browsed.  
This market was spread out in tents across a meadow adjacent to the ranger station parking lot where they'd left the SUV. Stopping by the office to leave the tent locker key, the couple left their thanks for Booth's ranger friend, loaded their gear, and drove through Boonesboro.

After a tour of the small local museum, Booth found a book for Max about the old-time outlaws and historic whisky stills hidden in the Appalachians. Wearing a slight smirk, he showed it to his wife who shook her head and rolled her eyes at him.  
"He'll love it, Bones."  
"Yes, he will; Booth. You know my father too well."

A short drive down twisting roads brought them back into Middletown, where they explored the quaint shops of its picture-postcard Main Street. In one, Brennan found a whittling knife with a slightly knobby hickory handle and suggested it for Pops.  
"A perfect choice; Temperance. The thicker rounded handle will be easy for him to grasp while carving those little toys he makes for Salvation Army gift distribution at Christmastime."

The wizened bespectacled proprietor agreed. "That there's native hickory, m'am. Handle won't never split; made of well-cured hardwood like it is. You'll not find that knife blade coming' loose no matter how much a man whittles. It's stuck in there fer good!"

She paid the very reasonable price, and began a discourse on the anthropological significance of handcrafted good among the mountain residents along the Appalachian Trail. The old man grinned at Booth.

"Yer Missus is a real smart lady, idn' she?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. My wife is a certified genius," Booth smiled back.

"An' a real purty one, too," the shopkeeper chuckled.

Brennan blushed furiously. "Thank you for the wonderful knife; my husband's grandfather will enjoy it very much. I see you are a veteran," she said, gesturing to his forearm where the edge of a Marine Corps tattoo peeked out from under his flannel shirt sleeve as he dusted the counter.

"Yes siree, Semper Fi!" the man declared. "Are you a military man, too, son?" he asked Booth.

"Yup, Army Ranger," Booth responded.

"Well, I guess I can't hold that against you; at least you served… I was a gunnery sergeant in Korea," the store owner laughed.

"Nope, sir, you've got that all wrong! We Rangers lead the way, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what my nephew keeps tellin' me. Y'all have a good day now, ya hear?"

"You too, sir. And thanks again," Booth answered, giving the older veteran a sharp salute.

The former 'gunny' straightened his stooped shoulders and snapped one back. "Take care of yerselves!"

By the time they drove back to Washington, it was getting dark. They stopped at Mama's for soup and sandwiches, and made it home in time to tuck Christine in after Max had read her six-and-a-half stories.

"It's a good thing you two got back. I thought I was gonna lose my voice before Little Miss in there was satisfied with storytime," Max grumbled good-naturedly.

"Thank you for keeping her, Dad. We had a very relaxing weekend. Booth's hiking plans were a complete surprise with your help," Brennan told her father.

"Anytime, Sweetheart. That little angel of yours has me wrapped around her finger, just like you did, Tempe. You still do, you know. I wish your mother could cuddle her. I know she sees her, but it's not the same," Max said, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Dad, Mom is gone. There's no afterli-" Brennan began.

"You just stick to that story, Bones. Max and I know better," Booth shushed her softly with a hug.

"That's right," Max agreed, heading the guest room. "You kids have a good night; I'm going to bed; your little monkey kept me hopping and I'm beat!"

G'nite, Max, and thanks," Booth said. He checked the windows, doors, and locks and set the security system as Brennan filled and set the coffeemaker. Then they settled on the couch together to watch the newscast before retiring as well.

"It was a perfect weekend, Booth. Thank you for my Valentine's surprise."

"You earned it, Bones. In the morning, you sleep in. I'll take Chrissy to church and we'll 'surprise' you and Max with pancakes."

 **A/N: For ecv's last Valentine's Day chapter, I borrowed a reference and a colorful character from the legendary Razztaztic's story "Once Upon A Summer" which recounts one version of Booth's agonized waiting out the three-month period when a desperate Brennan was on the run with Max and baby Christine, after being framed for murdering her friend Dr. Ethan Sawyer by Pelant's evil computer-genius machinations. Harland, one of Max's slippery and resourceful relatives, facilitates a devious way for the partners to communicate under the FBI's nose. I hope every one associated with Bones Fan Fiction has a last wonderful Valentine's Day with our favorite intrepid crime-fighting couple and their trusty team of sidekicks. (If they were real people, I'm sure that Angela, Hodgins, and Cam would be chasing me for calling them that, followed by a few irked interns and an irritated FBI psychologist.)**


End file.
